


Anchor

by ylvisexual



Category: Ylvis
Genre: Brotherly Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-19
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-13 01:55:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1208509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylvisexual/pseuds/ylvisexual
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bård ventures into a morally questionable encounter, Vegard can't find it in himself to not interfere.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anchor

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this very, very long ago when my friend told me about how some members of a certain band sleep with their groupies despite being married. And I thought to myself that the Ylvis brothers would never do that because they're always together and they'd serve as each other's moral anchor. This isn't meant to offend anyone it's just another way to write (poorly) about brotherly feels I guess. Bye. Don't hate me.

Vegard tossed his book aside and sat up, rubbing his eyes. He’d been lying in his hotel room bed for hours reading a book about Stonehenge, a gift he’d received from one of their fans during the book signing earlier that day. He stalled and stared emptily into space for a while, disoriented and trying to regain his bearings on his surroundings.

What time was it? Whipping around, he grabbed for his phone that had been charging on the bedside table. He grimaced as his stiff back screamed in protest. The screen lit up as he detached it, displaying the time. It was past 9pm. A twinge of pain in his stomach reminded him of the fact that he hadn’t eaten since lunch. He hated to leave the warm confines of the bed but reasoned that grabbing a bite at the restaurant downstairs would give him the opportunity to check up on his little brother at the same time.

Bård. Something was niggling at the back of his mind about his brother. He cursed softly under his breath as he realised that it probably hadn’t been wise of him to leave him on his own like that, especially in a country they’d only been in for less than a day. Vegard had conscience enough to feed himself regularly, but he doubted that food would cross Bård’s mind if he were otherwise occupied. It just wasn’t one of his top priorities, as far as his prioritizing abilities went.

He raked his fingers through his thick, curly hair in an attempt to tame the errant strands into looking presentable and pulled on a white T-shirt and his trusty leather jacket. Patting his pockets to make sure his wallet was in his jeans, he left the room.

Bård’s room was a few doors down the corridor. Vegard stopped in front of it and stared at the room number to make sure he had the right one. Having decided that his memory hadn’t failed him, he knocked on the door. 

No answer.

Vegard rapped his knuckles harder against the door. Still not a sound.

He was probably sleeping. Or maybe he was downstairs. Or maybe he’d gone out for some reason. No reason for alarm…so why was Vegard’s pulse quickening?

Concentrating on steadying his breath and mentally chiding himself for getting worked up over nothing, Vegard made his way down to the hotel restaurant.

It seemed pretty empty; it wasn’t the time of the year for tourists, he guessed. He scanned the room for his brother but his brother’s face didn’t appear on his radar. He was almost about to sit down at one of the window-side seats when he saw it.

He’d expected…or probably, hoped…to see his brother alone, which was why he’d missed it at first. But the sight across from him was unmistakable. 

Bård was sitting at one of the booths at the far end of the restaurant, close to the bar. He was leaning in very close to a mysterious dark-haired woman, someone whose face Vegard couldn’t see very clearly. Every now and again she threw back her head and laughed, her long waves of hair grazing Bård’s cheek and shoulder.

Vegard felt his hands become cold and he stared down at them, as if wondering why they’d betrayed him like that. He stumbled on the leg of the table and managed to sit down. His thoughts were a blur, but amongst it all, it was like red warning lights were flashing in front of his eyes. It couldn’t be what he thought it was. It just couldn’t.

Vegard wanted to leave the restaurant and head back to his room and pretend he hadn’t seen anything. And what even had he seen? Just Bård flirting with a random girl… it’s not as if he was cheating or anything. He was just having his innocent bit of fun…right?

 _Keep each other in check. You’ve only got each other when you’re not home. Take care of each other._ Helene’s voice sounded very far away in his head, but the words rang through his mind, becoming more distinct with every repetition. She’d added in what she probably meant as a light, joking tone: _Make sure you stay away from the girls._ But Vegard knew, that no matter how much Helene trusted him, it was a real fear of hers—of every person whose partner worked in showbiz and was constantly showered with attention from admiring fans in places that seemed so far away from home that it almost felt unreal, and where things that are wrong could suddenly feel okay.

He reluctantly raised his head and looked intently towards the booth where his brother was sat. His gut wrenched as he noticed that Bård had slung his arm around her shoulders and pulled her even closer. Should he…? Should he do something? What would he say? It was just like Bård to go around breaking rules as he wished with no regard for consequences. It was always Vegard who had to step in and clean up his messes and provide damage control after his juvenile jaunts into things that only ended in trouble. But maybe he could leave Bård to suffer through this particular episode, maybe he’d learn something when his ability to feel guilt returned and consumed him when they went back to their families back home. But Vegard was weak; he knew he wouldn’t forgive himself if Bård descended on a downward spiral.  

His uncertainty about the course of action he should take kept him firmly glued to his seat. If he fucked up, that was it. Bård’s grudges were always more than he could bear. He always came around in the end, but the hostile stares, the icy avoidance, the fake smiles in the mean time made life a lot worse for Vegard, especially because he spent 80% of his waking hours in the company of his brother.

Just as Vegard’s resolve started to waver, he saw Bård lean in to kiss the unknown lady, the hand not around her tilting her chin up. The jolt of anger that seared Vegard’s skin gave him the propellant he needed to abruptly stand up from his seat, the chair noisily scraping the parquet flooring as it was pushed backwards.

He paced swiftly across the restaurant and watched Bård’s eyes widen in horror at the sight of his older brother charging towards him with the vengeance of a bull in a matador ring. It would’ve been almost comical if not for the unadulterated fury sparking in his dark eyes.

“Just _what_ do you think you’re doing?” Vegard spat in brisk Norwegian. Bård should be so thankful that he was throwing him a lifeline by not screaming at him in English for everyone in the restaurant to hear. It was his way of saying, _I know what you’re doing, brother, and I want you to stop it so we can all go back to normal and pretend this never happened. This is still reversible._

Bård’s expression cleared as his initial apprehension was smoothly replaced by his usual calm, confident demeanour.

“Hello, brother,” he responded and then he turned to the girl next to him and said, “This is my brother, Vegard.”

Vegard looked at the woman properly and found that she looked familiar. Where had he seen her before?

“Hi, Vegard! Remember me? I was at the book signing this afternoon,” she said casually, her hand outstretched to shake his.

His sense of propriety led him to immediately shake her hand. Now he remembered. This attractive lady had been at the bookstore and she had spoken to Bård about inconsequential things over the table for an unusually long time compared to the other people in the queue. She’d hardly glanced at Vegard. At the time, Vegard saw nothing amiss because this was just how it was everywhere they went. The ladies fawned over his brother all the time. It was no big deal. But Bård returning the sentiment in this manner? It was a big deal, alright.

Vegard gave her a tight smile and turned back to his brother.

“Bård, you didn’t answer me. What are you doing?”

Annoyance flickered in Bård’s eyes for a split second. He answered in English, “Now, Vegard, it’s rude to not include others in conversation. If you’ll excuse us…”

Vegard’s blood boiled at his nonchalance.

“Stop this right now. Just stop it. Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing,” he hissed, glaring into Bård’s stubborn blue eyes that were drilling holes into his own.

“How about you leave me the fuck alone for _one night_?” shouted Bård so abruptly that Vegard took an involuntary step back and almost lost his footing.

Silence fell as every pair of eyes in the restaurant was directed towards their booth. Vegard’s next words died on his lips as he registered the unrestrained fury in Bård’s voice. This was not just a sudden outburst of emotions he felt at the moment, it had the texture of someone who had kept that voice repressed for a long time and had finally let it loose. 

“I’m a grown man, I know what I’m doing!” he interjected, slipping back into Norwegian, his voice considerably lower, but still laced with undisguised venom. “I’m so fucking sick of you tailing me all the time. What do you think you are? Some kind of moral police?”

“Goddamn it, Bård, I’m just trying to save you from making a mista—”

“I’m not your baby brother anymore, Vegard,” Bård said scathingly, “I don’t need saving.”

It took all of Vegard’s willpower to stop himself from socking his brother in the face right then. How dare the bastard try to pin this to an imagined fault in their relationship? How the hell had Bård equated his efforts in saving an idiot from ruining his marriage to being an overbearing brother? Was he going to sleep with random girls just to prove the point that Vegard no longer had a grip on him? Bile rose in his throat and Vegard had no choice but to lock and load the ammunition that he hadn’t planned on using.

“Like I could give a fuck about you crashing and burning, you selfish piece of garbage,” Vegard lied vehemently. “I’m thinking of Maria, and your kids. This isn’t fair to them.”

The woman had started to shift uncomfortably in her seat as she sensed the tension in the air. “Hey, if you guys need to talk I can go—”

She was interrupted by Bård sputtering, “Don’t you fucking dare bring up my wife and kids here.” His hands were curling into tight fists and he refused to look up at his brother. “Just get the fuck away from me.”

Bård’s tightly set jaw gave Vegard the indication that his mind could not be swayed anytime soon and he didn’t need to be told twice. He was starting to feel light-headed, partly from the gnawing hunger in his stomach, and partly from having to deal with the obstinate cow seated in front of him. He spun around and glided out of the restaurant without a word. Angry red blotches betrayed his frustration, adding colour to his pale, food-deprived face.

Let the little shit do what he wanted. All _he_ wanted to do was eat.

Zipping up his jacket, he stepped outside of the hotel in search of someplace where he could finally eat, someplace devoid of his cockroach of a little brother.

***

Later that night, Vegard slept soundly under the covers in his bed, with nothing cushioning his head but his own arm. Falling asleep had been easier than he’d thought; a full-sized meal on an empty stomach had had an oddly sleep-inducing effect on him.

He’d called Helene before he slept, though, asking after the kids and exchanging stories about their day’s activities. He hadn’t mentioned anything about Bård because somewhere at the back of his mind that dogged loyalty to his brother stayed, and a tiny part of him refused to concretise Bård’s misdoings by vocalising about it.

Just minutes after his breathing evened out, a loud thump resounded in the room. Vegard jerked awake at the noise. What the hell was that? In his half-asleep state, he had no desire to get up and investigate, hoping instead that the sound wouldn’t repeat itself so he could go back to sleep. He groaned as the sound did just that and it became apparent that someone was knocking at his door.

The next question on his mind (which bloody idiot was banging at his door at this time of night?) was answered by a keening, nasally voice intoning, significantly muffled through the barrier but still audible, “Vegaaard. Vegard! Open up! It’s me.”

“Fuck,” Vegard muttered to himself. He grabbed a pillow from the side of the bed and pressed it over his face. Trust the bugger to ruin his first good night’s sleep in a long time. What the fuck did he want?

As Bård’s feeble cries got louder, Vegard dragged himself out of bed to open the door before the hotel guests decided to raise a complaint against the inconsiderate asshole.

He pulled open the door. “What the fuck are you—woah!”

Bård had been leaning against the door and when it opened suddenly, he fell forward and slumped against Vegard heavily. Vegard staggered back under his weight and managed to steady himself by grabbing his brother’s arms, holding up some of his weight.

But Bård’s face didn’t leave the crook of Vegard’s neck where it had unceremoniously landed. “Vegard, I’m so sorry. I fucked up. I’m sorry,” he started mumbling and Vegard flinched at the smell of alcohol on his breath. So he was drunk. Great.

Sighing heavily, Vegard reached round and closed the door before guiding Bård off himself and onto the sofa at the foot of his bed.

He stood in front of him with folded arms, still miffed at having been rudely awoken. But there was a glimmer of hope in his chest at seeing Bård so remorseful, even if drunk.

“I didn’t sleep with the girl. I swear. I said bye to her really soon after you left and then I drank by myself and I think I drank a lot because I felt like a piece of shit and—” he rambled, and he tried to train his unfocused eyes up at Vegard. His voice grew insistent and needy. “Please don’t tell Maria. Please. I love her. So much.”

 Vegard cleared his throat and bit the inside of his cheek. He hated himself for being so forgiving and so pliant to his brother’s emotions. “There’s nothing to tell,” he said, his voice rough and barely audible.

He thought maybe Bård hadn’t heard him until he saw a tear trail down his flushed cheek. He swiped it away clumsily with the back of his hand and slurred, “I don’t know why I even considered it—th-that moral compass in me stopped working for a while back there for some reason and then you came along with yours firmly intact and I hated you for it and then I realised I was being so, so stupid.”

Before Vegard could respond, Bård started to clamber over the back of the sofa onto the bed where he threw his head down on a pillow with a forceful thud.

“Bård!” Vegard exclaimed. “Bård, c’mon. Go back to your room. You can’t sleep here. People might…talk.” Even as he uttered those words, he laughed to himself. As if people here even knew who they were, much less that they were brothers.

The dark blonde head shifted so that his face wasn’t squashed against the pillow and Vegard could tell by the slackness of his jaw that he was probably already asleep.

Sighing, he sat down in his space of the bed that had now shrunk significantly thanks to his brother’s sprawled limbs. He reached over and started taking off Bård’s shoes and placed them neatly by the side of the bed.

He settled down with his back against the headboard and glanced down at his brother. A lock of hair had fallen over his cheek. Vegard carefully brushed it away. With a pang of nostalgia, he noticed that when he was sleeping, Bård’s face looked exactly like it did when he was six years old. Sure, his cheeks had hollowed out to reveal sharp cheekbones and there were slight creases in the corner of his eyes now, but the familiar innocence of his closed lids and freckles and parted mouth remained, and to Vegard he looked just the same.

Maybe Vegard _was_ still protective of his now-adult-and-father-of-three little brother. He always had been. And he’d always be; it was a hard habit to kick. He’d continue to save him again and again from his mistakes because that was what older brothers did and that was all Vegard had ever known. 


End file.
